


Trust me (with Mind, Body and Heart)

by Daughter_of_Scotland



Series: Steter Short Stories [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, display of an abusive D/s relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/pseuds/Daughter_of_Scotland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles comes home that summer, he's just out of an abusive relationship - without knowing he's been abused. Peter makes sure he heals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust me (with Mind, Body and Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Stop_Drop_Howl challenge on LJ for the Prompt "Pushing the limits".
> 
> The abusive/non-con part is not explicitly shown, just described!

Stiles was in college when he met Kyle. He was older, studied law in his last year, attractive and _very_ sexually active. He introduced Stiles to things he had previously heard of but never really thought about much. Kyle made him try new things – at first, it was harmless stuff: edging, orgasms denial, rimming. Their sex life continued to advance into more adventurous stuff, like bondage and gagging.

The first time Kyle spanked Stiles, the younger boy was stunned. It hurt, but Kyle said it would get better, so Stiles let him continue until Kyle came all over him. It didn’t get better. But whenever Stiles tried to talk about, Kyle just brushed him off. One day he brought a paddle home, promising Stiles it would be different, and then proceeded to bind and gag him, before he started beating him.

Stiles was left in tears and covered in bruises, especially on his wrists, where he’d strained against the bonds. Kyle just laughed, promised he’d love it the next time, just needed to get used to it, and left to go clubbing, leaving Stiles at home.

This continued for the rest of the year; Kyle had new ideas every time they met and Stiles soon gave up on saying No – Kyle never listened anyway, just laughed and promised – he always promised – this time would be perfect.

Then, shortly before summer, Kyle broke up with Stiles, telling him he’d leave for Europe after finishing college. Stiles was devastated. By now he had grown to be dependent on Kyle; letting him decide what to do most of the time, even what to wear and when to eat (which resulted in him sometimes not eating at all, when Kyle thought he needed to be punished – for what, Stiles never knew). Stiles didn’t know what to do; so when his dad asked him to not work in the summer but come home, that is what he did. After all, his dad had told him to. And Stiles always followed orders.

 

***

 

He had been back for three days – his dad fussing over his loss of weight and silent demeanour – before he went to Derek’s for the first time.

After High School the supernatural happenings in Beacon Hills had surprisingly lessened; leaving Scott as an Alpha of a pack that had slowly calmed down and grown together. Derek had stayed a beta, happy to be one, actually; Isaac and Allison were still in a relationship while Scott had found someone new at Veterinarian school a few years ago. Peter had been travelling and when he came back he was different, calmer and more settled. He’d apologized to them all, and been forgiven (except for Lydia, but she accepted him enough to not fight with him all the time). Cora had left for a pack in Mexico, where she’d lived for a while.

There were two new additions to the pack; one born Werewolf from another pack, Ian, and another bitten, Shelly, who had been attacked on vacation. They had both found their way in and Stiles was ready to get to know them better while he was there.

So he went to Derek’s and was met with enthusiastic greetings – especially because he brought Pizza. Being with the pack, watching movies and eating, calmed him down more than he’d expected and soon he was almost back to his old self – loud and talkative.

It was just at the start of the next movie, while Stiles waved his hands and talked loudly about something he’d done at college, when Derek groaned and said: “Shut _up_ , Stiles, and keep _quiet_ , just for a few minutes!”

 Stiles flinched, snapped his mouth shut with a loud click and curled in on himself. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, out of habit. Only then did he realize what he did and paled as the whole pack stared at him.

“Stiles, what –, “ began Scott but Stiles interrupted him by jumping up and practically running out of the loft.

He drove like a madman until he was home. Only when he was safe in his bed, curled under the covers, did he allow himself to cry.

 

***

 

Stiles wasn’t sure what woke him up but he realized he wasn’t alone just a few seconds later.

He sat up and looked to his now open window. “I thought the time of creeping was over,” he said thickly, his voice scratchy from crying.

Peter shrugged and walked closer, cautiously sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It helps to keep the skill,” he replied and Stiles sent him a weak smile. The two had worked closely together during a few supernatural occurrences and, dare he say it, became friends. Stiles trusted Peter, even though he never forgot how he’d met him first.

“Why are you here, Peter?” he asked and drew his legs to his chest, hugging them.

Peter shrugged and looked Stiles over closely. “You lost weight,” he said instead of answering the question. “And you smell miserably. We all noticed but decided not to say anything. We wanted to wait until you came to us to talk about it. But after what happened today…” He trailed off as Stiles flinched again and then sighed. “Oh, Stiles,” he murmured, reaching out slowly. He cupped Stiles’ cheek. “Who did this to you?”

Stiles wanted to protest – no one had _done_ anything to him! – but what came out instead was: “He told me my mouth was only good to be fucked and I should keep it shut while not doing that.”

Something flashed in Peter’s eyes then, a remembrance of the firmer darkness he’d stopped to display. “You know that is not true, don’t you?”

Stiles shrugged and looked away, missing the flashing of blue eyes, drawn together in anger.

“It is _not_ ,” he repeated and sat closer. “Stiles, look at me.”

The young man did, albeit reluctantly. Peter cupped his other cheek, too. “I can see that someone hurt you very deeply,” he said. “And, as your friend, I want to help you. You don’t have to tell me, you can go to one of the others, or your dad, or a therapist – but you need to tell someone. Someone hurt you, and I want to know how, so I can help you get better. Become the Stiles you were before, the one we all miss dearly.”

Stiles couldn’t help the tears welling up during Peter’s speech and at the end of it, he scrambled over the covers to fall into the older man’s arms.

Peter hugged him tight and they stayed like this for a long time. When Stiles woke up in the morning, he was back under the covers and Peter was gone, having left him a post-it with his new number and a _Call me whenever you feel ready_ written on it.

 

***

 

It took about a week before Stiles actually called Peter. He hid in the house the whole time, thinking about what the older man had said. Scott, Allison and even Derek tried to talk to him but he asked them to give him time, which they agreed to. He told his dad he had some stuff to think about and he’d tell him when he was ready, which he accepted.

And then he thought about Peter, about his offer, and what it would entail. How much he would be ready to tell him.

In the end he decided that Peter was right: He needed to talk to someone. He had done his research and knew what Kyle had done wasn’t right; it had left him marked and scarred, even if just mentally. He needed help. But Stiles didn’t want to talk to a therapist. Peter was his friend, older and seemed to know at least a little bit about the whole thing if his first reaction was any indicator. Stiles trusted him.

So, with clammy hands, he called Peter the next week and asked for him to meet him in the park. He didn’t want to do this in his or Peter’s home and stain either of them with the encounter, so a neutral place it was.

 

Peter agreed to meet him readily enough, he even sounded relieved. But still, when they met that first day, Stiles couldn’t say much. He told Peter he’d been in a relationship with a guy and that this guy had treated him badly. He said that he’d been too flattered with someone like Kyle liking him to question him at first, and then too intimidated to leave, and that he’d been too embarrassed to tell anyone.

Peter kept quiet through all of it, just held Stiles’ hand and let him talk. When Stiles couldn’t go on he smiled a bit and thanked him for his trust. He offered to meet him again when Stiles felt better and ready to tell him more. Stiles agreed.

 

They met irregularly, but Peter always came when Stiles called on him, ready to sit and listen, while Stiles talked. Every time they met the younger man told Peter more – about the things Kyle had asked of him, how he’d controlled his life, and even about the sex. He was embarrassed about the last thing but Peter just smiled and continued to listen. He never once judged Stiles about becoming so dependent on Kyle or told him it would be okay, it was not his fault. Stiles was glad for that. It made it all easier; he didn’t have to think about it too much, could just recount everything in a very clinical manner.

It was two weeks before Stiles had to go back to college when he offered Peter his deepest secret: Sometimes, he missed it. The sex, the obedience, the dominance. And he hated himself for it.

This time, Peter hugged him close, instead of just holding his hand, and let Stiles cry, just as much as he’d done that first night.

Stiles felt better after and managed to depart with a smile, feeling lighter than he’d had in months.

 

***

 

When Stiles woke up this time, he instantly knew why and got up with a smile. “Creeping again, Peter?”

The older man shrugged and took off his jacket. “You know me, I won’t ever change,” he answered.

Stiles shook his head. “You already did,” he protested and was rewarded with a blinding smile. He watched as Peter bend down to take off his shoes. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Peter came to the head of the bed and kneeled down, taking Stiles hand in his. “You’re leaving soon,” he answered, “and I wanted to do this before you do.” He took a deep breath. “You trusted me, Stiles – more than anyone else ever has before. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but I have to say it anyway: what Kyle did to you was in no way your fault.”

Stiles pulled a face. “What he did _with_ me, you mean.”

Peter shook his head. “No, Stiles. You never agreed to any of it. He did it _to_ you. And I know you’re still hurting, but I want… I can’t let you go back without showing you that it can be different.”

Stiles blinked and stared at him. “What are you talking about?” he asked him, his voice not louder than a whisper.

Instead of answering, Peter pulled Stiles’ right wrist to his mouth, kissing it softly, his eyes never leaving Stiles’ own.

Stiles swallowed. “Peter… You don’t have to do this, I know you don’t see me that way, I -“

Peter laughed. “Oh, Stiles,” he said fondly. “If you only knew how long I’ve wanted to show you that I see you _exactly_ that way.” He cupped Stiles’ cheek with his free hand and leaned forward. “Do you trust me, Stiles? With your mind?”

Stiles swallowed again but nodded. Peter leaned closer again.

“With your body?” He stroked Stiles’ wrist and with a hitched breath, the young man nodded again.

“With your heart?” Peter breathed, his lips almost brushing Stiles’.

Instead of a verbal answer, Stiles surged forward and sealed their lips together.

 

It was not a chaste kiss by any means, it was all heat and passion. Stiles had realized he found Peter attractive very early on but never believed the older man to be interested in him – having the opposite proved now made all his former feelings and desires bubble to the surface. He _wanted_ Peter – in ways he’d never wanted Kyle. And from the way Peter’s tongue sneaked into his mouth and danced with his, Peter wanted him, too.

When they finally stopped for breath, Peter had migrated to the bed where they lay side by side.

“What are your limits, Stiles?” Peter asked softly and Stiles frowned.

“Limits?” he asked. “I don’t have any – I mean, it’s for the dominant part to decide where to stop, right?”

Pain flared in Peter’s eyes. “Oh, my dear boy, of course not,” he answered immediately. “What happened to the best researcher I know? Limits are for both parties, the Sub and the Dom. You talk about them beforehand, make sure you have a safeword and only then do you start to play.”

Stiles stared at him. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice breaking. “You mean I could have said no?”

Peter stroked his face. “Of course, Stiles,” he assured him. “And believe me: no real Dom would be angry with you for it.”

Stiles had to fight with himself not to cry. After a few minutes he had calmed down. “I… I don’t like pain,” he said slowly. “I just don’t like to hurt during sex. And… he used to humiliate me.” He looked away as he said it but Peter pulled his face back to kiss him softly.

“I won’t do that to you, I promise,” he said. “And if I slip and do hurt you in any way, you can tell me.” He smiled. “For me, I don’t like to get sucked off. It’s weird for most but I just don’t like it. And my safeword is pineapple.”

Stiles grinned a bit. “Well, that will be sure to not be used in bed regularly,” he joked and Peter grinned, too. “I think mine could be something similar… pear, maybe?”

Peter nodded approvingly. “For the moment, it will do. You can change it, whenever you want.”

They kissed again and this time, Stiles ended up under Peter, both losing their shirts after a while.

“May I mark you?” Peter asked, mouthing at Stiles’ neck. The younger man groaned and tilted his head to bar his throat at Peter who took this as a yes and started to suck at the soft skin.

“Always wanted to do this,” Peter panted after he finished the first mark and started the second. “Wanted to know how you taste, how you’d sound… god, Stiles, you have no idea how much I want you. My dear, wonderful boy…”

Stiles was moaning and writhing, his hands gripping the headboard tightly. He was already harder after such short time than he’d ever been with Kyle. Peter was practically _worshipping_ him and it was a completely new feeling.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m… Peter, I need… please…”

Peter nuzzled his neck and kissed him again before reaching down to undo both their pants. Stiles was thrilled to feel the older man’s hard cock right next to his as Peter started jerking them both.

“Feel so good,” Peter groaned and Stiles _keened_. He felt floaty, darkness creeping in on him, but at the same time everything felt clearer than before.

“Mark me,” he gasped out. “Please, Peter, I want to smell like you.” Stiles wasn’t even sure where those words came from but apparently they were the right thing to say because with another loud moan and a call of his, Stiles’, name, Peter came all over his hand and Stiles’ belly. Feeling the hot cum paint his stomach made Stiles see white. He didn’t even feel his own orgasm, not really, it was as if he experienced it from far away. It was the most relaxed he’d felt in over a year.

 

***

 

When Stiles came to, he was surprised to find strong arms holding his, hands stroking his arms and back. “You’re still here,” he slurred and the hands stilled for a moment before continuing their movements.

“Where else should I be?” Peter asked quietly.

Stiles shrugged. “Dunno. Kyle always left after he was done.”

He felt Peter’s arms tightening around him and a glance upwards revealed flashing blue eyes and the hint of fangs.

“He was no Dom,” Peter said. “He was just an asshole who got away with treating others like shit and not caring for their needs.” He looked down at Stiles. “If I had left, you would feel terrible about now.”

Stiles frowned and thought back for a bit. He remembered feeling pretty bad most times Kyle just left. “Yeah, probably.”

Peter nodded. “It’s called subdrop,” he explained. “When you have a good session – when the Dom does his job right – you can reach subspace. It’s a good and floaty feeling, I hear. But when the session is over and you’re not calmed down correctly, you can experience subdrop, which makes you feel like shit.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. He’d never heard of this. “Wow,” he said and looked away from Peter again. “I really should start that research.”

Peter kissed his head. “Don’t worry,” he said confidently. “I will teach you.”

Stiles smiled and snuggled closer to Peter. “Sounds good… sir.”

He fell asleep to the sound of Peter’s pleased rumbling.


End file.
